The Divine Hunter

Young, this was Geralt's first impression.

Even if the witcher has a long lifespan, most of the demon hunters in the world are over half a hundred years old. As for their appearance, they have always remained at the age of thirty to forty, and they have changed very slowly.

such as himself.

And the guy on the opposite side, with his heroic eyebrows, big and bright dark-gold pupils, delicate skin, slightly softer facial contours than adults, handsome facial features, and youthful temperament, all indicate that he is very old. Small, at most fifteen or sixteen years old from the outside.

Moreover, Geralt clearly understood how the special herbal reagents that the witcher drank during the trial of green grass would have a violent catalytic effect on the body.

The actual age of the witcher in front of him...he wasn't even a young man, but a teenager.

However, Geralt noticed another detail. The young witcher's auricle was slightly pointed, different from that of normal humans. His hair is not pure black, but hazel.

"Half-elf? No, quarter-elf. The kid is of elven blood. He's from the cat school?" As far as Geralt knew, a good portion of the agile and graceful cat school were of elf blood, and Mostly disorganized lunatics - the relationship between witchers of different schools did not go well.

Geralt couldn't help tensing up, the muscles on his arms propped up the short leather sleeves. The dryad behind him felt abnormal, and hesitantly pointed his bow and arrow at the witcher on the opposite side.

...

"Praise the Law of Accidents!"

Little Butterfly did not disrupt fate!

Roy grinned heartily, and that sincere smile made the two people on the opposite side relax a little.

"Geralt, and this lady dryad, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Roy, the witcher of the Viper School."

Depressed and excited, the boy took out the Snake School badge from the placket on his chest and showed it to the idol from the previous life opposite.

"You know me, what's your purpose in entering this dangerous territory?" Geralt's body was still tense, ready to exert force at any time, even though his instinct told him that the guy opposite him had no malice.

"Your Excellency White Wolf, I have heard a lot of your deeds from bards all over the world. My teacher, Lesso, also introduced me to the status of each school.

Just mentioned you. "

Roy pointed to the wolf pie pendant between his neck.

"Actually, I also played you..." At the same time, he added a sentence in his heart, looking at the white wolf openly.

He was about 6.2 feet (1.9 meters) tall, and he inherited the usual sloppy look of a witcher—a scruffy face, slovenly, wearing an old chainmail, and his white hair was casually tied to his head with a black headband. After that, his face was slightly long and narrow, the bridge of the nose was high, the lips were a little thick, there was a circle of gray stubble around it, and the line of the chin was extremely rigid.

His eyes were deep and indifferent, and near the animal-like left pupil, a long scar crossed the brow bone and appeared on the lower eyelid.

But the most striking thing is his stiff facial expression, as rigid as a machine, which is the legendary dead face.

This had to remind Roy of a rumor that there were frequent accidents in the grass trials, so Leso was bald, and Geralt lost his hair pigment and facial nerve paralysis, making it difficult to make complex expressions, even smiling. .

This honor, coupled with his cold temperament, indeed, Roy touched his nose and gave Geralt an apologetic look that confused him - indeed, it could make the child cry!

Geralt of Rivia

Age: 78

Sex: Male

Occupation: Wolf school witcher

life:?

Mana: 160

Attributes:

Strength: 20

agile:?

constitution:?

Perception: 19

Will: 6

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 16

Skill:

Witcher Seal...

alchemy……

meditation……

Wolf School Longsword Swordsmanship...

Witcher Senses...

other?

...

Roy remembered that Geralt was no match for the King Assassin Letho in terms of heads-up.

This is normal. What Bailang is most talked about is not his superb skills, but his legendary experience and his emotional history with many women.

"Charm 6 is about the same as normal people."

So, what is it that makes the majority of sorceresses and ordinary women throw moths into his arms? Roy is very curious,

"Well, I have to ask him to ask him about this."

...

"You've heard of me, and you're right..." Geralt said in a self-deprecating tone, "I'm afraid everyone on this continent knows the name of the Butcher of Blaviken."

"It's not your fault!" Roy was just about to explain something, when suddenly there were footsteps of "tatta" on the tall hornbeam beside him.

When the footsteps stopped, a petite figure appeared in the upper left of Roy's field of vision,

"brat!"

"Roy!"

Ciri, who was wearing a dirty jacket, jumped from the big tree with a faint cry and jumped into the arms of the witcher.

The witcher caught her firmly, then picked her up and circled happily.

"Are you injured?"

"No... woo... Roy... I thought I would never see you again."

Roy wiped the sticky tears on the girl's face amusingly,

"Don't cry... I'm crying like a little cat... Look there! The monster is dead, you are safe now!"

Ciri turned her head and glanced at the giant centipede that had turned into two halves. She snorted heavily, then buried her face in the boy's chest, and said in a muffled voice, "I'm tired, so sleepy, Roy let me rest. a while."

After consuming a lot of physical strength, and being frightened for a long time, she suddenly relaxed, and the little girl fell asleep in the arms of the witcher.

"Wait...what's the situation now!?" Geralt asked, who was left to the side. "Roy of the Viper School, is that little tree spirit you're holding in your arms?"

"Go!" At this moment, the honey-haired dryad interrupted the witcher in her lame Common Tongue, "Yugorn...smell...swarm...go away!"

Roy sighed and had to give up searching for the corpse of the giant centipede. He originally wanted to look through to see if he could find useful mutants.

...

The four of them left the clearing and the horned trees together, and in order to avoid the pursuit of the Yugoen group, they moved forward under the leadership of the tree spirits.

The forest became more sparse, and they moved through a sandy grove, through brush, misty meadows, and the temperature began to drop.

"The Viper School..."

"Call me Roy, don't be such an outsider..." The young witcher held the back of the girl's thigh with one hand, letting her rest her head comfortably on his shoulder. The girl's body is light, soft and warm, like a large doll.

"Okay, Roy. To be honest, I don't remember seeing a witcher as young as you in decades, not just Kyle Morhen, I've heard other academies stopped training apprentices for some years now, witcher. There are fewer and fewer people." Geralt walked side by side with him and sighed.

"So, I'm really lucky."

"Um……"

After a moment of silence, Geralt's eyes quietly turned to the petite girl. "This girl," Geralt looked at the little girl, her messy hair tangled with pine needles and leaves, but still looking clean, neither smoky nor greasy.

Her hands on Roy's shoulders were dirty, but small and delicate, without any scars or blemishes.

She was wearing a black, gray and white jacket, which did not reveal her identity, but the short boots on her feet were made of calfskin, and she was obviously not a country girl.

"She's a princess, isn't she? You and Freixette's group entered Brock Leon to find her."

"Do you know Fresnet?" Roy asked nonchalantly,

"Well," said the witcher without hesitation, "a few years ago, when he was a baron in Ham, he was cursed by his ex-concubine and turned into a cormorant. I happened to pass by and help him break the curse. ."

"Geralt, you are really a curse nemesis. But sorry, I can't tell you about her identity." Roy betrayed and winked at Geralt, "When she wakes up, yourself ask."

"...So Roy, what are your plans next?"

"It's up to us to do anything in the Treant's territory, right?"

"You're definitely not going now."

Roy glanced at Miss Dryad who was leading the way, "Then where is she taking us?"

This young tree spirit has a slender and slender figure and a very delicate face, which is in great contrast to the previous vigorous skills and sharp methods.

At this moment, she was a little impatient and fearful on her beautiful face with gorgeous patterns? It seems that he is reluctant to communicate face-to-face with the three humans behind him.

"The heart of Brock Leon, the true home of the Dryads, Doon Canal."

Roy breathed a sigh of relief, everything was as expected.

"By the way, what should you call this lady tree spirit?"

He had observed that the other party was called Brian, but if she called her name inexplicably, he would not be shot to death.

Geralt shook his head, his originally rigid face underwent some subtle changes, he blinked at Roy,

"Want to know Lady Dryad's name? You'll have to ask yourself."

"You have elf blood, just use the ancient language to communicate with her."